


Small Steps

by DoomsDaisy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Decapitation, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomsDaisy/pseuds/DoomsDaisy
Summary: Dimitri gets what he wants, and Dedue is left to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	Small Steps

Edelgard is on her knees, pale face flushed and eyes cast down. She knows that the fighting is over, and what comes next. Dimitri throws down the twitching Areadbhar, having no use for it at this point. He knows what’s coming next, too. 

Dedue can only stand there and watch. This is the moment his highness has been living for, killing for. The battle has drawn to a close, and this is the final act. He breathes in deeply, preparing himself for what he’s about to witness.

Dimitri peels his gloves off slowly and stops in front of her. Only then does Edelgard raise her head-- her eyes aren’t pleading or defiant or bitter. Rather, they’re sad, and that sadness is also seeping through the small smile that tugs up the corners of her lips. Dimitri reaches a bare hand down and touches under her chin gently, urging her head upwards just a bit more. If Dedue didn’t know better, he’d call the gesture romantic.

And, as Dedue expected, the soft scene transforms in the blink of an eye. Dimitri’s hands are on either side of Edelgard’s face and he begins wrenching her upwards, like he expects to just pluck her head straight from her shoulders. He gives a guttural snarl and stomps a foot into her stomach to keep her in place as he tugs and twists. Edelgard chokes out small noises but her hands stay obediently by her sides, intent on facing her defeat even as the tendons in her thin neck flex and strain painfully.

As much as Dedue resents Edelgard, he’s thankful when a particularly rough yank makes her neck give a sickening crack and her body goes limp. In the state Dimitri is in, Dedue’s not sure he even notices. Spittle is flying from his lips as he pants and turns her head in hideous, unnatural angles. The neck of Edelgard’s armor is digging into her skin causes it to split, and Dimitri is quick to use it to his advantage. Rough fingers dig into the gash and begin ripping and tearing it further open, until it’s gnarled red smile is spread over the entire side of her neck. Dedue looks away for a moment as his stomach turns, but returns his gaze steadfastly, intent on watching his king’s victory.

The tear is quick to widen and every blood-slicked inch Dimitri gets, he goes deeper, until he’s clawing at lean, red muscle and tendon. The sounds are as monstrous as the act-- wet gurgles wheeze from Edelgards parted lips every time Dimitri repositions his foot for better leverage, all the while he can hear the wet, elastic sound of organic matter splitting. And Dimitri… he’s grunting and snarling like a beast, face twisted into something truly horrifying. As gruesome as the scene is, Dedue can’t help but hope that this is what his highness needs, and that after this carnage, his revenge would be sated. If this is what it takes to have Dimitri begin a new life, then so be it.

He watches with a heavy heart and sour stomach until the head is pried from Edelgard’s shoulders with a wet tear of skin and a crack of spinal bones. The body topples over, leaving Dimitri standing with her head in his hands, the bloody, tattered stump of her neck dripping blood from between his fingers. Dimitri is looking down into her open eyes, flecked with blood and grime. Dedue wonders what he must be feeling at that moment.

Dimitri chuckles-- a soft noise hardly heard over the distant, tired crash of battalion remnants in the distance. But it soon picks up into a full on howl, with Dimitri throwing his head back and barking his manic laugh into the white sky. It’s raw and unhinged, quickly morphing into something more akin to a bellowing scream. The chilling noise is what madness sounds like, Dedue realizes. The unmasked, unbridled sound of a man who has been taken into insanity.

The sound cuts off on a raw wheeze and Dimitri falls to his knees, still looking up at the sky. Dedue’s body moves on instinct and he’s beside Dimitri in a flash, steady hand on his back.

“Your highness...let’s have your wounds treated.”

Dimitri clutches Edelgard’s head to his chest, pale hair tangled around his fingers. “...It’s over.” He finally says, his voice a harsh whisper.

“Yes.”

Dimitri sits solemnly for a long while before reaching over and tearing a swatch of red cloth from Edelgard’s cape. Dedue steps back and watches as Dimitri carefully wraps the head in the cloth before standing. He fastens the bundle onto his belt like it’s some sort of macabre bauble and nods his head, satisfied. 

“Let’s go, Dedue.”

* * *

Dedue steps into Dimitri’s room, wash basin full of steaming water under his arm. It’s been almost a week since the final battle, and Dimitri is still sitting on his bed in the same spot. An untouched plate of food sits beside him, brought in by Dedue that morning. In a few hours, he’d come by again to collect the breakfast and to leave a dinner plate that would go just as ignored. 

Dedue breathes shallowly from his mouth as he approaches Dimitri. There’s no getting used to the smell in the room-- a wet rottenness that clings to his clothes even after he leaves. The culprit, of course, is the red bundle that sits on Dimitri’s desk, the fabric dark and soaked with black decay. He had tried to remove it a few days ago, but Dimitri had spoken for the first and last time since the battle, a single dry growl. 

“ _Don’t._ ”

So it’s still sitting there, silently rotting and molding and staring unblinkingly under the red cloth at Dimitri, who stares unblinkingly back. Dedue knows he needs to take it away eventually, but for now, he’ll focus on cleaning the mess in front of him. 

He’s never been one for words, but it doesn’t matter-- Dimitri won’t answer him in the state that he’s in. So instead, he places the wash basin at the man’s feet and unties his cape wordlessly. Dimitri stares ahead and allows himself to be undressed, armor plating and clothing being set neatly on the floor. Dedue doesn’t see any grievous injuries on him, which is a small blessing. 

He thinks he might meet resistance when it comes to the pants but as Dedue touches the waistband, Dimitri sighs and raises up just enough to allow them to be shucked off. Naked now, Dedue can see how much Dimitri’s body has had to endure-- the sensitive skin at all of his joints is chafed red and raw from the armor, dirt and grime marking the areas where the cloth underneath the metal has torn. And he’s gaunt too-- without his mighty cape on and without the clunky metal armor, Dimitri is all lean muscle roping over bone from endless training, but no bulk, from endless days of skipped meals.

Dedue’s throat feels hot and tight as he dips the washcloth into the steaming water. He raises up and starts with Dimitri’s neck. Sweat has caked dust into a dark band around his throat, and Dedue studiously rinses it away. Dimitri sighs again, a soft, melancholy sound as he closes his eye. 

Dedue works his way down, ribbons of filthy water trickling down Dimitri’s chest, and then his legs. 

The hands are what give Dedue pause. There’s dark blood dried under the short nails and lashes of gore that have dried into a flaky crust along the backs of his hands, and as he begins rinsing them, long, pale strands of hair lift out of the grime. Dedue feels ashamed-- he’s let Dimitri sit here in this filth for days, all because he was overwhelmed...disgusted even, and maybe a little more terrified than he would let himself admit. But at the end of the day-- at the end of the war, at the end of everything….this man in front of him is still _Dimitri_ , still the man that saved him and whose heart, though broken so completely, is still fundamentally good. Many people have and will continue to say otherwise, but Dedue knows it to be true. Just as there is a man under this filth, there is assuredly a good man under all of the atrocities he’s committed.

The water quickly becomes a murky red mess, so Dedue leaves the room to empty and refill it. He’s careful to rinse away all of the white strands of hair that float atop of the water and cling to the sides. 

When he returns, Dimitri is still sitting in the same spot but now he’s looking at his clean hands, scrubbed pink with limp fingers gently curling towards his palms. Dedue approaches slowly and takes a knee on the floor in front of him once again. Dimitri turns his hands slowly as Dedue begins wiping down his legs. He nudges the man’s knees and Dimitri opens them easily enough, but not before casting his single blue eye up to lock onto him. It’s the first time that they’ve made eye contact since the battle, and it’s very significant to Dedue. It’s like Dimitri is finally allowing someone in, finally acknowledging that there are things outside of his own thoughts and woes. Dedue clenches his jaw as emotion threatens to overtake him-- at that moment, all he wants to do is grab Dimitri and shake him, _I’m here... You’re not alone, and never will be-- don’t fight this on your own._

Dimitri blinks in a light, quick volley and seems to regain a bit of his senses, if only for a moment. He looks away quickly, as if remembering the good manners of his upbringing. 

Dedue isn’t having it. The Dimitri that he knows is right there, right under the surface, and damned if he’s going to let his highness sink back below the dark waters that he’s been submerged in. 

He reaches forward and grabs Dimitri by his flaccid prick, wash cloth preventing direct skin contact but it’s still enough to make Dimitri jump and look back down at him.

“Your highness.” Dedue can feel heat creeping up his neck but he keeps his hand steadfastly in place. “Do not look away.”

Dimitri is speechless, but for a completely different reason now. There’s finally life in his face and though it’s only shock from the boldness of his actions, Dedue is happy to take it. Words have always been tricky for Dedue. They can be twisted, misconstrued, ignored. But actions-- they’re a pure form of communication and Dedue knows that, without his voice, he can show his devotion and love to Dimitri.

He drags the cloth slowly down Dimitri’s soft cock before gripping it better and bringing it back to the base. Dimitri’s breath hitches and he shifts uncertainly on the bed, though he doesn’t move to close his legs or bat the hand away. Dedue can feel him stiffening under the cloth in fast, hard jerks. 

The room is dead silent, albeit the soft sound of the wet cloth moving. Dimitri’s eye is wavering but he continues to stare at Dedue as commanded of him, even as his body twitches involuntarily and his cock quickly fills to a full erection. He looks confused, scared-- and, Dedue thinks, maybe a little grateful. 

Even with his hand working Dimitri with slow, steady strokes, there’s still a sense of impartiality to the act with the wash cloth in the way. Dedue breathes in deeply and lets it fall with a wet flop into the basin before gripping him once again-- the feeling of Dimitri’s flushed prick in his hand is indescribable, intimate in a way that he can hardly wrap his head around. Dimitri must feel the same, because a strained, timid moan leaves him as he scoots his hips closer to the edge of the bed, lean thigh muscles flexing in a brief flutter.

Dedue is aroused. It’s not the cock that’s thumping quicker and rougher under his fingers-- it’s the expressions he's drawing from Dimitri. It’s the hurried breaths that are being panted into the putrid air, soft moans lingering underneath them. It’s the way Dimitri finally loosens his muscles and lets his head roll onto his shoulder, blonde hair falling over his flushed face. Knowing that he’s able to relieve Dimitri of his despair, if only for the moment, is as exhilarating as it is fulfilling. 

He speeds up his hand as Dimitri groans and places an arm on his shoulder in an awkward half embrace. The touch is almost enough to bring Dedue to tears-- he wants so _desperately_ for Dimitri to rely on him, to grab onto him when he’s vulnerable, and right now, he’s getting everything he’s wanted. 

“D….” Dimitri’s mouth is open and he’s gasping for air like he’s drowning, “ _Dedue_ \--!”

He knows that Dimitri is close. He slides his hand up to the precum-slippery tip and pumps him fast enough to make the muscles in his arm burn.

“Look at me,” Dedue whispers, raising up on his knees to bring their faces close. “Look at me when you cum.”

The moan in Dimitri’s throat hitches as he looks at Dedue and tumbles over the edge. Hot semen soaks into Dedue’s shirt and dribbles down his thumb into the wash basin. Dimitri looks gorgeous like this, face twisted in excruciating pleasure, overwhelmed yet still looking at him, and nothing but him.

Dedue works him dutifully through it, until Dimitri’s head collapses tiredly onto his shoulder and his body is left limp and twitching. He lets his own head rest on Dimitri’s shoulder, and they stay like that for a long while. 

Eventually, Dimitri lifts his head enough to rest his chin against Dedue. It seems affectionate until Dedue realizes what’s directly behind him.

He holds Dimitri tighter, knowing that the man is once again looking at the grisly, leaking bundle on his desk. 

Of course this wasn’t enough to completely shake the hold that Edelgard has on him, but Dedue knows that there’s still hope. 

Small steps. 

Small steps.

**Author's Note:**

> my first fe3h fic :D!!!!!! i cant wait to write more kdsjfvnkf


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